


the court harlot

by leafygreenturtle



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bratty Rhys, Butt Plugs, Chastity Cage, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Rings, Dildos, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face Slapping, Female receiving oral, Femdom, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, LOTS of orgasm denial, Male receiving oral, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Orgy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Sub Rhys, Vaginal Sex, Whipping, bratty sub, dom feyre, dubcon, feyre ordering rhys to fuck other girls while she watches, i made a part two, more orgasm denial, throne smut, tit fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27318487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafygreenturtle/pseuds/leafygreenturtle
Summary: Feyre orders Rhys to please her, and the rest of the females in their court. Femdom orgasm denial.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 9
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

They were in the Court of Nightmares once more, a revel in full swing around them, but neither of them were paying attention to anyone else in the room. 

Feyre threw her head back against the wall, and moaned as Rhys licked her, his tongue flicking over that sensitive nub between her legs.

A hand dragged through his hair, pulling him closer to where she needed him, and she rode his face as she came with a shuddering wave.

She held his face there as she panted, keeping his nose buried in her, and only released him when she came down from that glorious high.

He gasped for air as she let him go, and she left him on the floor, red-faced and drenched with her wetness as she strode for the throne and sat in it.

“Come here,” she said after a moment.

He made to rise to his feet, but she clicked her tongue. “Don’t get off your knees until I tell you to.”

She could’ve sworn his face heated. But he crawled to her on his hands and knees, across the considerable expanse of the throne room, until he was kneeling before her.

It was a long distance, long enough that there was a pointed silence as he crossed the room to where she lounged on the throne, lazy and bored.

Around them, the revel was still in full swing, but with a wave of her hand, the music and dancing stopped. The crowd circled around the dais, keeping a healthy distance from her, and from Rhys on the floor.

“What do you want?” she asked, the question the portrait of grace and magnanimity.

“I want to please you.”

She tilted her head in mock consideration. “Only me? What about the other females of the court?”

Surprised flashed in and out of his eyes. Followed by a desire so heady it almost made her sigh.

“If it pleases you.”

She laughed. “Who wants a turn with him?” she asked the crowd before her. Her subjects.

Silence. They averted their gaze from her as if fearing her wrath. But she only smiled. She couldn’t blame them. She could be very possessive, and she was their High Lady. So they needed to be tempted. 

To Rhys, she said, “You can use your body to please them, but if you come while touching another female, I won’t ever touch you again, and she can have you.”

She could hear his heartbeat, a raging, thunderous thing. Good. She wanted him afraid. 

“Come here,” she said, and he obeyed. She hadn’t told him to get off his knees yet, so he crawled up the dais steps to kneel at her feet. 

She couldn’t help but be pleased at his utter obedience, and she motioned for him to stand. 

She dragged a hand across the rippling muscles of his chest, his stomach. Her stomach traced those whorls of Illyrian tattoos, and she pinched lightly at a nipple. He shuddered under her touch, his cock obscenely warm and hard. 

“Don’t you want this?” she asked the court below them. Everyone was looking with interest, even the few males among the crowd. The scent of female arousal from so many High Fae was so thick and tangible in the air, she almost couldn’t breathe. 

Some jealous, savage part of her beamed with delight. This male who everyone wanted was her mate, and hers alone. They could have him for a night, but she would have him forever. An eternity being worshipped by him, that godlike body.

Her hand teased lower, and when she gripped him and stroked twice, Rhys let out a soft groan, his hips jerking into her hand. His chest was heaving, his fists clenched at his sides at the effort of keeping his hands to himself. 

She smiled. “Well? Don’t you want to touch him?”

She swiped a bead of precum off the tip of him, and brought it to her mouth. “To taste him?”

She took his hand and dragged it over her front, right over a breast. Rhys whimpered, his fingers shaking, but she dropped his hand, her gaze still on the crowd. “To have him touch you?”

She used a hand to shove him to his knees, then shoved him forward so that he stumbled off the dais and into the crowd. 

Rhys didn’t wait before putting his mouth on the first girl that stepped forward, her eyes lust-fogged and her cheeks flushed bright red. She’d already undressed her skirt, though a sheer slip of a top remained. Rhys lowered his head to her, licking and sucking at her—and, Feyre knew—pretending that girl was her.

His hands gently gripped her thighs, until they tightened around his head, and she wobbled on her feet. She came a moment later, with a sharp cry.

“H-High Lord,” she gasped.

Rhys tensed from the floor. He knew she didn’t like people talking to him during a scene.

Her mouth tightened, but she jerked her chin at Rhys. “Who’s next? He’s going to make every one of you here come before he’s allowed to come.”

Rhys was stroking himself slowly, his eyes squeezed shut.

“You can touch yourself,” she drawled. “But remember what I said. If you come in the hands of anyone but me, you can forget about ever touching me again, because I don’t fuck spoiled goods.”

Something resembling desperation washed over his face, but he dropped his hand, body trembling slightly. 

The next High Fae female stepped forward, and Feyre said, “This time, fuck her. Or are you just going to tease all night long?”

His face was flushed red from arousal, and his pupils were blown with lust as he stared at her. But his mouth quirked up slightly as he said, “I’d hate to disappoint my High Lady.” 

“If you’re still talking, I think you can put that mouth to better use,” she said amusedly as she leaned back in her throne. 

Another High Fae female stepped forward, slender with thick, dark curls, and Rhys bent to kiss her neck, nipping slightly at her ear, and she gasped, her hands running across his chest, exploring. 

He willed the heat inside him to cool as he peppered kisses down her collarbone, her breasts. Willed himself not to think of Feyre, on the throne behind him, watching his every move. He could feel her gaze on him, her hunger through the bond. If he thought about her, he wouldn’t be able to last another minute.

He slid a hand down to the female’s thighs, and rolled and stroked the bundle of nerves there until she was clutching his shoulders as he knees gave out, and whispering his name. He squeezed his eyes shut as he slid into her, and swore when she started rolling her hips to get him deeper inside her. 

“Does it feel good?” Feyre purred from behind him, even as he thrust inside the female, who was now gasping and screaming in pleasure. He was panting, feeling the blood rush in his ears and holding his breath as he tried not to give in to the wave of pleasure that threatened. He was so close. 

“ _You_ feel good,” he said to her. “It feels good because I’m pleasing _you._ ” 

"Is this how you want to please me?” she asked, her voice turning to something smooth and low and husky. 

He grit his teeth as he felt every inch of his body tightening, sweat sliding down his temple. He couldn’t last if she kept talking, if he kept hearing her voice as he fucked this other female.

She came beneath him in a shuddering gasp, her body slackening. He gasped in relief, sliding out of her as he fought to catch his breath. Feyre ordered someone else forward, and he groaned as he felt a hand on his cock, stroking and brushing a thumb over the tip. 

“Feyre,” he groaned, his voice high and pleading. 

“Let her touch you,” Feyre said. “Don’t come.”

He whimpered as that hand continued stroking over him. The other female was saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear anything beyond the roaring in his head as he begged, pleaded for her to stop, because he was going to come, he was going to come-

For a moment, she dropped her hand, and he sighed in relief, but then she sank to her knees and put her mouth on him. He swore, hips jerking forward to meet her mouth. An embarrassing whine escaped him as he tried to hold back the pleasure that threatened. He glanced at Feyre, pleading, but she only watched him. 

He looked down to the female between his legs, and for a moment, imagined she was Feyre. She had the dark, honeyed curls to match, and he could picture it for a brief moment. 

He startled as he felt another pair of hands on him. Feyre ran her hands over his shoulders, his back, kissing his neck. He moaned, throwing his head back.

Then he felt her finger circling the tight pucker of his asshole. He tensed, even as he squeezed his eyes shut at the whisper of pleasure the motion elicited. The female that still had his cock in her mouth hummed around his length, sinking her mouth further onto him, and Rhys felt his vision blur at the sudden sensations. 

“Don’t,” he gasped out.

“Why?” Feyre asked, her voice soft and honeyed. Her hand teased his entrance again. He could stop her if he wanted to. Or he could use his safeword.

”Every part of you belongs to me, even this,” she said. “If I want to have you here, I’ll have you here.” 

As if to drive that point home, she pushed that single finger in dry.

He cried out at the pain, the small violation. It burned badly. His cock was hard and throbbing inside the other female’s mouth, and she reached a handle to cup his balls. 

He gasped, chest heaving, as she sucked at him while Feyre started fucking him with that single finger, adding another. The pain and pleasure blended and fused until it became one single, overwhelming sensation. 

“Does it hurt like this?” Feyre asked, her voice close to his ear as she kissed and nipped at his neck.

He moaned incoherently, and she chuckled.

“I want it to hurt. You know why, Rhys?” She drove those fingers into him, deep and curving, shallow and straight. He pushed his hips back against her, rocking against her fingers at his back, and the female still sucking him at his front.

She bit down at the spot between his shoulder and neck. “Because I know you like it.”

She pulled her fingers out, and he snarled. She laughed.

“Should I order a male here to fuck you? Do you want a thick cock to split you open, to fuck you dry?”

“ _Feyre,_ ” he moaned. 

“Or do you want to suck a cock instead? Would you like that? I think I’d like to see this pretty little mouth around a cock.”

He whined, wanting something inside him again, but she didn’t slip her fingers in. 

She grabbed his hair in a tight fist and yanked it back, baring his throat to her. She licked and kissed her way up it while he pumped his hips into the other female’s mouth, desperately chasing that golden edge, despite knowing he couldn’t cross it.

He was so focused on the feeling of the mouth around him, and Feyre’s lips on his neck, that he jerked in surprise at the feeling of cool metal at his entrance. Feyre let out a husky laugh as she pushed the plug in. 

Without any lubrication, the stretch was almost too painful, almost impossibly tight. But she eased it in patiently, massaging the skin there until it at last slid in to the base. 

He was panting, swearing, as he adjusted to the fullness in him. The plug was huge, bigger than any she’d made him wear before, and he could feel his hole pulsing around it. 

“Enough,” Feyre said, but not to him, he realized. 

The female pulled off him, panting a little. She wiped her mouth, and stared up at him. “I wanted to taste you,” she said. “Your hand will have to do.”

He glanced at Feyre for direction, but she just shrugged, falling back onto the throne to watch. “Make it good,” she said.

He was glad for the excuse to focus on something other than the roaring in his head, his blood, and he knelt before her, slipping a finger inside, then two. She was warm and wet and ready, and was gasping and coming around his hand before long.

Feyre ordered him to do the same to the other females there, and he did, sometimes fucking them with his body, but when he couldn’t last any more, he would pull out and use his hands and mouth.

He was leaking, the tip of his cock wet and drooling as he knelt before her again. Behind them, people were caught up in their own trysts now, and the sounds of sex filled the chamber.

“Poor High Lord,” she crooned, wrapping a hand around his cock. She brushed a thumb over the tip, squeezing slightly at the slit where precum pooled. He cried out, panting as she released him.

“Do you want to come?” she asked.

“Yes.” His voice was a hoarse plea.

“Earn it, then.” She spread her legs as far apart as they would go on the throne, and reached a hand down to tangle in his hair. She pushed him closer to her, but when he hesitated, she scowled.

“What?” She made her voice annoyed, impatient. 

When he spoke, it was as if he had to drag the words out of him. “I can’t,” he said slowly. 

She waited.

“I’m going to come.”

She tilted her head, considering. “Fine.”

She snapped her fingers and a small metal ring appeared in her hand. A small ring to put over his cock to make sure he couldn’t come before she wanted him to. 

But this one was different. She knew Rhys realized the moment his eyes widened in true fear for the first time all day. 

This one had ash in it. 

“Put it on,” she said. 

“No.” 

She slapped him, hard. 

“What did you say?” she asked too calmly. 

“No, _High Lady._ ” 

She slapped him again. His head snapped to the side, and she could see a patch of red blossoming on his cheek where she’d struck him.

Still, his eyes were bright, defiant. 

She laughed, the sound cold and merciless, and sending shivers up his body. “Oh, you’re bold today.”

She put the ring down. “Get up.” If he wanted to be punished, then he would be punished. 

He followed her across the room to where she’d summoned a wooden X-shaped cross. She jerked her chin at it, and he walked over to it, lifting his arms above his head to lay against the wooden beams meant for his arms. She sent a flicker of her magic to bind his arms in place.

“Spread your legs.” He did. Her magic bound them, too. 

When he was secured across the cross, she snapped her fingers and a whip appeared in her hand. Rhys shrunk from it, the taut muscles of his body contracting. 

But there was no where for him to go.

“You are not allowed to tell me no. When I ask you a question, you will respond with ‘Yes, High Lady’. Understand?”

His breath hitched as she struck with her whip. Not on him, but on the floor. He flinched as she did it again, the sound of it on the stone floor menacing. 

“Yes, High Lady.” 

She ran the edge of the whip across his chest, flicking a nipple with it. He moaned.

Until she said, “Wings.”

He froze. His gaze went to the whip in her hand, and he tensed as he realized what she intended.

“No,” he said. “Please.”

She struck him with the whip. The blow landed on his abdomen, and he gasped, feeling the agonizing pain the rippled across his stomach as the whip split the skin open. If she had been a human, it would have barely marred him. But she was no longer a human, she was a full-blooded Fae honed from training and war. 

“What did I say about telling me no?” she said, her voice soft, taunting. 

When he didn’t answer, she struck him again, in the same spot. Tears rushed to his eyes from the pain, and he struggled against his restraints. He didn’t have to look down to see that he was bleeding from the wound, the blood trailing down his body. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. 

“Are you?” she mused, running a finger along the angry, red mark on his abdomen. Her fingers pressed in, drawing another pained groan from him. “You’re about to be more sorry.”

“Wings,” she said again.

His head slumped forward, and he obeyed this time, his wings spreading wide from his back and then tucking in again, in fear and anticipation of the whip in her hand. 

“Spread them,” she said, her calm, soothing voice so at odds with the violence of the whip in her hand, the wound at his stomach.

He was trembling from dread, but he knew fighting now would only make it worse later, so he spread his wings.

“Keep them taut,” she said. “Or I’ll pin them down.”

When he did as she said, she ran her fingers over the smooth membrane. He flinched viciously, expecting the blow of the whip, and he knew that was why she had done it.

“They’re beautiful,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt them, but you’ve given me no choice.”

Then she struck. He roared in pain, his back arching against the cross, as his wings recoiled from the pain and tucked in tight. The pain was blinding, all-consuming. 

“Open them,” she said. 

Body shaking, he spread his wings again. She struck again. And again. And again. 

Each time, she would make him spread them for her again. He would be trembling, pleading, sobbing, but she would wait until he spread them before she struck again. 

He didn’t know how long it had been before she let him off the cross, before she soothed the sharp sting of pain with her Dawn Court healing power. The wounds had closed long before, his own Fae healing at work. 

Now, she was on the throne again, and he was kneeling before her. She held out the small metal ring in her hand once more.

He still shrunk from it, but the pain of the whip was still too fresh in his mind, so he reached for it.

Rhys almost recoiled at the feeling of it in his hand, the sharp queasiness that shot through him at the contact.

He slipped it on, pouting a little at the discomfort. It didn’t _hurt_ exactly, but it felt _wrong_. He could feel his cock softening at the cold touch of the metal, and when he looked up at Feyre, she was smiling. Pleased.

“No hands,” she said. “Just your mouth.”

He obliged, leaning forward to lick her. She moaned at the first touch, and he flicked his tongue over and around the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs, wrapping his mouth around it and sucking lightly. It didn’t take long for her to come, her thighs tightening around his head as she shuddered and clenched around him.

“Fuck me,”she gasped, and he didn’t need to be told again.

She slipped the ring off the head of his cock, and he almost sighed in relief. But he rose to his knees, lined himself up with her, and thrust in before remembering that her command from earlier to not come still stood. 

His blood was roaring in his ears. He couldn’t think past the desire rushing in his veins, in every taut muscle of his body. This would be the true test of control.

She laughed, as if realizing it. “What’s wrong?” she crooned. “Can’t fuck me?”

“I can,” he bit out, breathing uneven. 

She shifted with him inside her, and he gritted his teeth. She was so wet and warm, and he was sinking into her without even moving.

When he was seated to the hilt, he stopped, panting. If he moved, he would come. He took several deep breaths, trying to think of anything else, anything but her body under his. She didn’t let him. She ran a hand over his chest, then wrapped her legs around his lower back, tugging him closer.

Her mouth was on his neck, kissing softly. “Fuck me,” she breathed into his ear. 

He swore, thick and heavy, and thrust into her. He was throbbing, and he cried out as he pushed in a second time, trying to keep his pace controlled.

“Faster,” she said. 

He whimpered. He couldn’t make it, not with her touching him like that.

“ _Faster,_ ” she ordered again, this time biting into his chest.

He jerked into her, losing rhythm, and swore. She stroked his wings at a maddening pace, never stopping, and he let out a string of words that were both curses and pleas for her to slow down.

His eyes rolled back in his head at the pleasure that coursed through him at every slippery sound and thrust their bodies made. He was whimpering with every thrust, feeling himself about to fall off that edge—

She moaned, coming around him in a shuddering wave. Her body clenched around him, spasming with the last echoes of her release, and he pulled out abruptly, panting, eyes wild and face red.

His cock was throbbing so hard he could _feel_ it pulsing as it searched for her wet heat, and was met with cold emptiness instead. 

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry, I couldn’t—” he gasped out, still seeing stars. His whole body was tight and hot, he could feel the blood rushing to his groin, and it was making every inch of him sensitive and feverish. 

Her eyes were sleepy, sated with pleasure, and she blinked slowly up at him. He bit back a plea for her to let him come. He knew she wouldn’t, not until she wanted him to. 

“Come here,” she said softly.

He did, and she waited until he was looking at her before running her hand over his cock. He hissed out a breath, still feeling tightly strung.

“You haven’t come yet,” she mused, almost to herself. 

He couldn’t help himself. “ _Please._ ”

She wrapped her hand tighter around him and started stroking slowly. He whimpered. He’d been denied release so many times, he was sensitive enough that any touch was almost painful.

“I think I like you like this,” she said, voice low. “So hard and horny and desperate that you would do anything just for a touch from anyone.” 

Then she released him. He stumbled back a little, reeling from the sudden loss of contact. 

“Well, I’m done with you for now.”

He gaped at her. “Feyre-”

She raised her brows. “I said I’m done.”

His heart started pounding in panic and dread. She was really going to leave him like this, hard and throbbing and unsatisfied. She had used his body for her pleasure, and wasn’t going to let him come.

“Please,” he tried again. He knew she liked it when he begged.

She ignored him. “Keep the plug inside you. I want you horny and ready for me all the time.”

He was still staring at her wide-eyed, and in disbelief. When he realized she wasn’t going to change her mind, the disappointment hit him like a wave. “Yes, High Lady.”


	2. Chapter 2

Rhys was waiting for her in her room when she got back. His wings were out, splayed across the bed. 

Feyre ran a hand over the smooth membrane of one of them, and he shuddered. His cock lay thick and hard against his stomach, and she a ran a finger along its length. His eyes shuttered closed and a small sigh escaped him. 

“Did you touch yourself?” she asked softly. 

He shook his head. 

“You were good today,” she said, returning a hand to one of his wings. It unfurled even further, inviting her touch. There were no scars on his wings from earlier today, but she still asked. “Do they hurt?”

He shook his head again. “They’re healed.”

“That’s good.” She bent her head to suck a talon-tipped edge of one in her mouth, and he made a small, desperate sound in plea. She withdrew, wiping her mouth. 

He watched her, wide-eyed, his lips parted a little.

Her fingers went to the plug that was still in his ass, and she toyed with it a little, twisting it inside him until he moaned softly. 

“You’re my little toy,” she said, almost to herself. “All horny and ready for me all the time.” Her hand trailed up his hard dick again, and he shuddered. “Whenever I want.”

“Please,” he said.

“Please what?”

“I want to make you come.” 

She fought back a shiver at the words. She was too strung up to deny him. The thought of him waiting in bed for all day while she ruled over their wicked court, hard and ready and desperate, was making heat pool low in her stomach.

So she leaned back in the pillows, spreading her legs a bit. 

_Come here,_ she purred in his mind. 

He did, kneeling the space between her parted thighs. His pupils flared, swallowing up the violet of his eyes as he scented her. His mouth was so, so close to her, his face directly parallel with her slit.

She spread her legs open further, letting him see how wet she was. She was dripping, her skin pink and flushed there. 

His eyes fluttered, almost rolling back in his head.

She laughed. “Do you want to taste me?”

“Yes,” he breathed. 

She gripped his hair, then brought his face closer to her soaked core. He shuddered with restraint. He wouldn’t touch her unless she ordered him to, and she hadn’t yet. 

Feyre smiled. She pressed his nose against her wet folds. His hands flexed restlessly on the ground, and he made a small, pleading noise. 

“Touch yourself,” she said. “But don’t come.”

Shaking slightly, he took himself in his hand. Then, with his face still buried between her legs where he could smell and feel her but not taste her, he began stroking himself. He did it so slowly enough that Feyre knew he was on the edge. 

When he was leaking with precum, and throbbing so hard she could _see_ his cock pulsing, she made him stop and ordered him to drop his hand. He was panting, trembling with restraint. 

She nudged him off her, then led him to the adjoined bathing room. There was a pitcher of ice cold water on the counter. 

She glanced at his erection, then back again at the pitcher. 

“Get rid of it,” she said. 

“Are you going to let me come at all?” he asked finally. 

Her face didn’t change. “That’s for me to decide and you to find out. I’ll edge you however many times I feel like. Are you going to stop me?” she challenged.

His breath came out in a long, slow exhale. “No.”

She jerked her chin at the pitcher again. “Then get rid of it.”

He stepped into the tub, and wincing, doused his erection with the cold water. She hummed as his cock softened, pleased.

She snapped her fingers and a small metal chastity cage appeared in her hands. Rhys looked warily at it.

“I don’t want you hard for what we’re doing next,” she said. 

That piqued his curiosity, but he slid it on obediently, some small part of him despairing as he heard the lock click shut decisively. 

When she led him back to the bedroom and he saw the dildo she’d laid out, he realized what she intended. He remembered her words earlier, how she’d said she wanted to see him sucking a cock, being fucked by a male. It seemed she’d settled for a fake cock. 

It was about the color of her skin, and he wondered if that was intentional. 

She reached for the dildo, and without asking him, or any further prelude, pushed the head of it against his mouth. When he didn’t immediately open for her, she pushed it harder against the seam of his lips, forceful, demanding. 

He parted his lips and the head of the plastic cock plunged inside. She fucked him hard with it, merciless as she thrust it in so that it hit the back of his throat every time. It was huge and thick, and his eyes teared up from the force of her thrusts. Drool was spilling out of his mouth, making him messy. 

She didn’t want to watch him suck, she wanted to fuck his mouth raw.

He could barely breathe in between her thrusts as she drove it in and out, unrelenting. 

When she finally stopped, he gasped for breath.

“Fuck yourself with it harder than I did.”

His blood heated at the words. But he lifted it to his mouth again and started bobbing his head up and down the length of it, moaning at the thought of her watching him, at the thought of her wet for him. His cock strained against the metal bars of the cage. A little more pressure, and it would start to hurt. 

“Harder,” she said. “I want to hear you gag.”

He obeyed, and the room filled with the obscene, wet sounds of him gagging on the cock, choking himself with it with every thrust. 

Her breathing was ragged when she finally told him to stop. His chin and chest was wet with drool, and the dildo was dripping with his saliva as he pulled it out, panting. 

“You can take your plug out,” she said. He did, wincing a little as it slid out. It had been in there for so long, he felt strange and disoriented without the familiar weight of it in his ass. 

“Suck it,” she said. “Put the whole thing in your mouth, I want you to taste your ass.”

Her voice was making him horny again, but the cage prevented him from getting hard. He slid the plug into his mouth and gagged at the taste, but sucked it obediently until she told him to stop. She told him to pick up the dildo. 

“Ride it,” she said. “Go slow and don’t come.” 

An ache began to spread to his cock. He wanted to be free of the cage so badly. 

He fumbled a little as he positioned the cock on the floor below him. It stuck to the ground with the suction cup at the base of it, and then he lifted himself up and groaned as he lowered himself on it. 

His eyes rolled back in his head as he felt it nudge against that sensitive bud of nerves in his ass.

“Faster,” Feyre said. She was slowly starting to touch herself, but she didn’t look concerned about coming anytime soon. She was relaxed, unbothered as she watched him.

Sweat began to gather on his neck, and he panted as he slid up and down the dildo. He could feel pressure and tension building in his cock, but with the cage, there was no release for it.

Feyre must have read his mind, his desperation. “You can stop.” 

He did, feeling his heart racing. She waved her hand and the chastity cage vanished, leaving his cock free. It hardened immediately, then began throbbing. She glanced at the cock that was still buried in his snug, tight asshole. 

“A good whore should taste their own ass often enough that they never forget it, that their mouth is always full of the taste.”

His mouth went dry. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t form a single thought. There was just unchecked, raging lust in his veins. 

“Are you a good whore, Rhys?”

He nodded slowly, then slid off the dildo. It slid free of his body with a dirty, slick sound, and then he looked down at it, then back at her. 

When he hesitated to taste it, she slapped his balls. He groaned in pain, his body arching away from her as the sensation seared through him.

He brought the dildo that had just been in his ass to his mouth and slid his tongue over the head of it, sucking it clean. It was still warm from being inside him, and that just made this filthier. She watched him, her hand massaging his balls now, and he groaned around the cock in his mouth, taking it deeper and tasting the bitter taste of his ass on it. 

Her other hand slid to his widened hole, the skin there bruised and red from fucking himself with the dildo. 

She slid one finger, then two, in easily, and he cried out, the cock slipping out of his mouth for a moment. She didn’t seem to care, not as she curled those fingers inside him, and he panted. 

He pushed himself against her fingers. “ _Pleasepleasepleaseplease,_ ” he begged. He was so close.

“Not yet,” she grinned. “You can’t come yet.”

He felt dizzy with sensation. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. He just wanted to come.

She pulled her fingers out of him, and he watched as he hands spread his legs and positioned him on his back. 

“You’re sensitive,” she said softly. “From being denied so many times.” It wasn’t a question. She could read his body like an open book. 

Her hands brushed his balls again, cupping and squeezing them. He knew what she was going to do a split second before she did. 

She smacked his balls again, and he cried out, his eyes tearing up at the pain. But she did it again, and again, until he felt like he was on fire. Gasping, arching, he fought to keep himself spread for her. 

“So pretty and red for me,” she murmured. 

She moved on to his cock now, slapping it, squeezing it, abusing the skin there until it hurt and ached and throbbed. She slapped his balls again, so hard he felt his ears ring, his stomach growing queasy.

“Feyre,” he moaned.

When she pinched his balls, he screamed her name, his voice raw and shaky. She laughed. 

He felt like he was about to explode. His arousal had reached a fever pitch. It hurt now, to keep himself from finding release. He writhed on the ground, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“You’ve earned a reward,” Feyre breathed. “You’ve been so good. So perfect for me.”

She pulled out a small bottle of oil from a drawer and unscrewed the cork.

She tipped the oil over herself, rubbing generous amounts over her chest. She squeezed and plumped the supple skin there. Rhys moaned in a sound that sounded like her name, and she fought not to let her body’s reaction show. 

“You look so good,” he breathed, his voice low and wrecked with pleasure. 

She ignored him, even as a pulse of heat shot through her, and she pushed her breasts together, then slipped his cock through them. He groaned, bucking upwards into her blindly, desperately. 

She pulled away, and he whined at the loss of contact. 

But she said a little breathlessly, “Stay still. If you move, I’ll stop.”

He nodded, and when she didn’t start fucking him with her breasts again immediately, he squirmed. “Please.”

She slid her breasts down his cock again, rubbing up and down his length. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he gritted his teeth and fisted the sheets with the effort of not moving his hips. He was whimpering with every thrust, eyes squeezed shut, and Feyre was panting as she watched him, transfixed. 

“Please,” he moaned. “Let me touch...” he gasped out, “Let me touch you. Please, please. Feyre. Please.”His hands flexed on the sheets. 

She shivered, feeling herself grow wet from his begging, his desperation. “No,” she said. “Keep your hands on the bed.”

He groaned, and she could see tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. Whether from ecstasy or from being denied, she didn’t know. 

She sped up her movements, going faster and harder, and he came with a hoarse cry, spurting onto her breasts, some of it catching her face. He came for what seemed like forever, his body slumping when the last waves of his release had ebbed. She let him go, then curled up next to him on the bed. 

When his breathing at last evened out, and his eyes cleared from the hazy fog of pleasure, she kissed him softly. 

“Are you okay?” she murmured.

“Yeah. That was...I love you.” 

She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. 

“I’m exhausted though.”

“We have time to sleep.” She laid her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around him. He laid light, gentle kisses on her head, and it didn't take long for them to drift off to sleep after that.

**Author's Note:**

> send me prompts at my tumblr @rhysandswhore or just drop in and say hi!


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